


Comfort Sex

by Scummy



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort Sex, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 17:56:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11167062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scummy/pseuds/Scummy
Summary: Fragility never fit him to begin with, but lingered forever beside him. When that rope secured his ankles, keeping him behind while his better half ran off. While the drugs jumbled together in his system, muddling his thoughts and the core of his mind. As his own body constantly fought against him as he was forced to seek help for things he never desired to admit to. Fragility stuck to him, stuck to his bones, and threatened to seep into yours.





	Comfort Sex

               Fragility never fit him to begin with, but lingered forever beside him. When that rope secured his ankles, keeping him behind while his better half ran off. While the drugs jumbled together in his system, muddling his thoughts and the core of his mind. As his own body constantly fought against him as he was forced to seek help for things he never desired to admit to. Fragility stuck to him, stuck to his bones, and threatened to seep into yours.

                And that was something he never wanted.

                Seeing your tired eyes in the middle of the night when he woke up thrashing from a constant stream of haunting memories. Your body aching from a constant lack of sleep, and stumbling accidents you had because of such nights. You never admitted to any trouble he gave you, even when it was written clearly on your face.

                As per what everyone said, he tried ignoring his doubts. Tried listening to his therapist’s dull voice repeating in his head, counting off a seemingly endless list of boxes to check off when he felt like this. And it worked for everything else. Everything with his brother, with the rest of the RFA, and at times it even helped his relationship with Jumin that was broken before he had a chance to start it.

                It didn’t help with you. His therapist tried talking him down from his ideas that you were better off, that you were so undeserving of him, that you needed to be free from someone who was just holding back your wings. There were a few times you even accompanied him to his sessions, for some tainted proof that you loved him and his therapist was right. Those sessions didn’t last long before everything he wanted to expressed died in his throat and stung his eyes.

                Love was difficult. Love hurt so much, and he wasn’t sure if he should allow yourself to keep hurting because of him.

                But…He was selfish. He was so damn selfish, because as much as he knew he should let you go, he was there stubbornly grasping your hand with as much strength as he could, keeping you grounded with your dormant wings of freedom.

                Tonight, you shared his bed again. The party for him and his brother was draining. As much as he loved the positive attention, it got too much when it mingled with his brother’s jokes and optimism. Laying here beside you as the night calmed down put him into false ease. Everyone had gotten him gifts he didn’t deserve. He tormented their lives for a brief amount of time, but the damages were ever-lasting. But there they were, greeting him with careful hugs and slowly picked words. You were the only person who had true emotions, who didn’t handpick your sentences, yet he was still horrified with the idea that he could be wrong. That his paranoia was true, and you were ready to leave him the moment his meds kicked in.

                He turned to his side calmly, watching your resting face against the pillow he would use for his anger. You were breathing deeply and completely fast asleep. Gingerly, he pressed the pads of his fingers against your cheek to trace patterns. You were so soft. So sweet. Were you really happy with him?

                Shuffling closer, he brought you to his chest, shakily pressing a kiss against your forehead. It wasn’t an illusion that you were here beside him, but he felt so alone with his thoughts, and another moment and he wasn’t sure if he could contain the tears he felt welling up behind his eyes.

                Thankfully, you shuffled a bit in your sleep, mumbling something nonsensical. He took a deep breath before carefully shaking your shoulder once, twice, and finally a third time before you woke up with groggy eyes and a thick voice.

                “I’m selfish.” The first words out of his mouth. When you gave him a sleepy and confused look, he continued. “Are you really happy?”

                “I am.” You said it without hesitation, and he couldn’t tell if that was a good thing.

                “Are you really happy with me?”

                This time you didn’t answer right away. You scooted up and cupped his cheeks, bringing his face down closer towards you, your lips gracing his forehead before muttering your previous answer again. Instead of letting you slip back against the pillow, he buried his face in your shoulder, arms wrapping tightly around you while he held his breath. He counted, quickly at first, from one to ten. Trying to ground himself from the emotions attempting to force themselves out, but before he could go through the numbers a fifth time, tears were already rolling down his cheeks.

                He tried hiding those too, along with his shame, but your hands starting rubbing calming lines against his back, and he couldn’t hold back the shake that came along with his sob.

                The two of you stayed like that. Wrapped around each other as he let him paranoia seep away with his tears, forcing himself to accept, that at least here in this moment, you loved him just as much as he loved you. And while he felt guilty for waking you up like this, disturbing any pleasant dreams you might have been having, he was so grateful for your lucidness helping him.

                Finally, after what felt like hours, he pried himself away from your shoulder, resting his exhausted eyes on your peaceful features. You didn’t waste much time before you carefully started peppering his face in kisses. One to his head, below his eye, his cheek, his jaw, and then before you knew it his lips were against yours.

                It was rare that he kissed you, especially during moments like these, but he couldn’t stop himself from greedily taking your lips with his own. Without much thought, he kept up a rushed string of kisses, desperate to feel any proof of your love that wasn’t just calm kisses and soft spoken tones. One hand found your cheek, keeping your head in place as his other slipped to your side, sliding down and pulling your hips to be flush against his.

                “Can we?” The words tumbled out between kisses. “I want to feel you like this.”

                You agreed without hesitation. The two of you had sex before, and remembering each instance where you were bent across something or pushed against a wall brought a loud sexual excitement without any worry.

                Though, of all the times you two had shared such moments, he had never anxiously tugged off his shirt like he was doing now. All other times were rushed- an onslaught of desires meshing together in one steamy romp, but when he bared his torso to you without instinctively covering up his tattoo, everything stopped.

                “I know we usually. Just fuck.” He started out, his voice pathetically weak. “I don’t want this to be like that. I’m sorry.”

                The moment the apology left him, you sat up and stopped him with a soft kiss.

                “Don’t apologize. It’s okay. I understand. I want this too.”

                He wanted to melt just then and there. Instead, he helped you out of your sleepwear with fumbling hands. Fingers tracing the curve of your hips, your thighs, as you pulled his pj bottoms and boxers down. For a moment, he let that vulnerable insecurity hit him. He wasn’t strong like the other men he knew were. Hell, he was sure he was just a weak pile of bones at some point, marked with a curse from his past. But you didn’t hesitate to plant a kiss over his heart. Just one, soft lingering kiss on his chest, and that horrible gut feeling he had nearly vanished in that instant.

                Gingerly, he laid you down and let his elbows rest on either side of you. Your flushed cheeks and adoring gaze could be the end of him. You could look at him like you were now and crush his heart into pieces, and he wasn’t sure on if he would even feel the pain.

                He kissed your nose first. Your nose, your cheek, before resting his forehead against yours, taking his hardened cock in his hand as he rubbed the tip against your folds. His breathing was already becoming labored just from the panging excitement shooting to his core. With a gentle push, the head of his cock entered you, and your hands were at his back instantly.

                “Does it hurt?”

                “No, no.” You promised as he eased himself deeper.

                Once he was fully in to the base of his cock, he stilled, having to hide his face against your neck as he panted out his feelings. You always felt so fucking good around him, but with these emotions strangling his throat, it was hard not to let them seep out again.

                Slowly, he pulled himself out and delicately pushed back in, earning a small breathless moan from you. That fueling him, he started a slow pace, focusing on the feelings surrounding his heart. He lifted his head away from your nape to start a careful pattern of kisses. Each slip of the tongue was paired with your bodies pressing flush against each other. Sweat was quickly forming, his pace increasing achingly slow, and the words trapped in his throat earlier started to flood out with each pang of loving excitement that coursed through him.

                He started spilling out details of the first moment he realized he loved you. How your sweet personality captivated him, how he knew he was done for when you first pressed your lips against his on that cold night. How he could see a future with you, one where he wasn’t plagued with nightmares and his worries of you finding someone better.

                His last words were choked out as you tightened around him, as your legs strongly clamped to his sides while you could barely form the words to express how the world felt to you in that moment.

                Breathing raggedly, he pulled out with the strength his orgasm managed not to tear away from him, and that’s when both of you noticed the tears rolling down his cheeks. You brought his face to yours as you kissed them away. A few still slipped past your tender pecks, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling and meeting your lips when he could.

                “I love you.” He muttered as you pulled him to your chest, enjoying you letting him wordlessly snuggle up to you despite the sweat still clinging to your bodies.

                “I love you too.”

                When you said it, your voice laced with such compassion, he finally allowed himself to accept you meant it.               

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! I ran a poll on my MM blog (MmScum.tumblr.com) on what kinda fic I should write for Saeran's birthday! Out of the choices I gave, comfort sex won! I hope you guys enjoy it! If you notice any typos, please tell me!


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